My Favourite – ‘International’ Cinema

Originally Published in the now defunct Subtitled Online


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Persepolis

International film, or world cinema, is largely a sort of genre category utilized by film distributors and retailers in Britain to designate non-British, Australasian and, more specifically, American produce. The category is loaded with notions of otherness and exoticism, political, racial and sexual complexity and, in many senses, the highbrow. In effect… international cinema holds a firm place in the populist, collective consciousness as inaccessible, designed for the subtle eye of the critical spectator and not for mass consumption, or ‘entertainment’.

In truth, many world cinemas, like Hollywood, have their own brands of majority produce, designed to satiate the audience’s most straight forward leisure needs. Bollywood, in India, is a notable example, for its gargantuan output of romantic musicals and historical epics. China also has a long history of family dramas and, of course, its martial arts Wuxia pictures, and Egypt was termed the ‘Hollywood on the Nile’ for its large yield of tragic, often female centred melodramas. These films are not, in the main, what immediately springs to mind when one considers ‘international cinema’. Often less exported and translated for the English speaking audiences, much of these various national cinemas are created for, and consumed by, the home audience. In this sense, then, no cinema is ‘foreign’ or ‘world’ until it is transported or translated. And that counts for Hollywood, too.

With that in mind, this introduction is mainly concerned with summarizing a diversity of international pictures currently absorbed by the English speaking audience in, most specifically, Britain. What carries a film here from Africa, Asia, the Middle East or the rest of Europe is dependent primarily on the funding capabilities of that particular nation. It will probably come as no surprise that Western European countries such as France and Germany have much greater financial muscle that many African countries, where little or no money for production and distribution is available.  Aligned with that, exhibition at film festivals, such as Cannes and Sundance, is often imperative in getting a film to reach a wider, international audience and thus engage critical notice. However, combined with marketing and distribution costs, entering films into festivals is an expensive business. Finance is one of the primary reasons why most audiences will have seen more Hollywood pictures then French pictures, and even discerning audiences will have seen more French or Chinese than African or Latin American pictures.

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All About My Mother

Western and Northern European cinema is often considered the apotheosis of cinema as ‘art form’ due to the reputation of past masters ranging from Vittorio De Sica, Francois Truffaut, Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini and Andrei Tarkovsky, if one wanders as far as Russia. However, long after these cinema deaths, the legacy of the European masters continues with the camp and burlesque melodramas of Pedro Almodovar (All About My Mother, 1999), the often sexually bleak dramas of Lukas Moodysson (Lilya 4 Ever, 2002), the controversial experiments of Lars von Trier (The Idiots, 1998) and the psychological thrillers of Michael Haneke (Funny Games, 1997).

Veer to the Middle East and cinema production seems to be most heavily concentrated, contemporarily, in Iran. In the last two decades, the country has been responsible for a plethora of both male and female cinema authors, dealing often in the socio-political tensions of the age, to critical acclaim. Abbas Kiarostami, in particular, established a strong reputation with acclaimed pictures such as A Taste Of Cherry (1997) and Ten (2002). Aligned with this, a high percentage of female filmmakers’ projects have been exported. Samira Makhamalbaf, for example, has told the stories of Iranian and Afghani women in films like Apple and At Five In The Afternoon (2003). These socio-realist films are also complemented by films like the internationally successful Persepolis (2003) by Marjane Strapi, a darkly comic look at a woman coming of age during the Iranian revolution.

As mentioned, African films have struggled to find finance and, as such, much of its international head rearing has been intermittent. In the Northern country Tunisia, Moufida Tlatli,  achieved a hugely positive critical reception with Silences Of The Palace (2004). The film, about servant women prostituted in a Bey palace, demonstrated the relationship women have with nation, as representatives of nation. Travel further south to Senegal and you will find two of Africa’s most well renowned directors. Djibril Diop Mambety (Touki Bouki, 1973) and Ousmane Sembene (Borom Sarret, 1963) both dealt, in their differing ways, with the social traditions and tensions of Senegal, the hierarchies and sexualities of its people, and the corruptions of government.

Into East Asian and an eclectic diversity of film practice. Park Chan-wook has cultivated an aura of brutal creativity with the martial artistic The Vengeance Trilogy (2002-2005) and the vampiric Thirst (2009). Much less brutal, Thailand’s Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s films are slow and idiosyncratic, using themes of nature, sexuality and spirituality, in pictures such as Blissfully Yours (2002) and Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010). In Taiwan, Tsai Ming-liang has been lauded for his brave employment of slowness and sparse dialogue in Vive l’Amour (1994) and What Time is It There? (2001).

Some Latin American works, in Mexico in particular, have amassed large, global audiences. Alejandro González Iñárritu gained popularity with, what could be called, ‘gritty’ and complex narratives, in Amores Perros (2000) and 21 Grams (2003). After these films, Babel (2006) completed what has become known as his ‘Death Trilogy’ – a film that incurred Academy Award success and belongs in the pantheon of global narratives, telling its story in Japan, Morocco, Mexico and the USA. Outside of Mexico, Fernando Meirelles drew British attention to the early mortality of the gangsters of the Brazilian favelas in the hugely acclaimed, MTV style film  City Of God (2002).

What is evidenced from this brief compendium is the English speaking audience’s proclivity for International films with political narratives. The inequities between men and women, between rich and poor and, specifically in Tsai Ming-liang’s films, between heterosexual and homosexual, and the anxieties that arise as a result, are common across the films mentioned. However, if one were to watch all these films, what would also be evidenced are the vast differences in the aesthetic and narrative qualities across, and within, nations. There is a heterogeneous miscellany evidenced between East Asian brutality or slowness, Senegalese casual performance, Iranian social realism and Latin American MTV culture creativity.

So, as suggested, International or world cinema is not a coherent category, but exists in terms of its opposition to the national product, in the first sense, and the commercial product, in the second. Once they manage to surpass the financial difficulties, in particularly in the instances of the developing nations, their ability to capture an audience’s attention comes from their artistic, cinematic handling of human difficulties that are both specific to nation, as they are also, transcendental across place and time. The troubles of women in Tehran, recall the upheavals of the Western feminist revolutions, and the poverties of the urban classes of Brazil echo the kitchen sink realism of 1960s British cinemas, and the trials and traumas of the working classes detailed therein.

 

Five of my Favourites

Pedro Almodovar, All About My Mother (1999)

In many ways, the Spanish auteur’s most highly considered film, All About My Mother is often credited with being a goal post in Pedro Almodovar’s creative maturation. The film retains the kitsch camp of his earlier works, but extends itself more fully in to the melodramatic.In a sense the film is not simply all about the mother, but all about the feminine and the performative nature of contemporary women-hood in Spain.

 

Marjane Strapi, Persepolis (2007)

 

A modern animation classic if there ever was one, Marjane Strapi’s adaptation of her own autobiographical graphic novel helped translate the dilemmas and tensions of the Iranian Revolution to the wider audience.Helped along with the vocal talents of legendary French actor Catherine Deneuve and her daughter Chiara Mastroianni, Persepolis looks at the growth of girl torn between her country’s conservative values, and the more liberal values of her parents.

 

Moufida Tlatli, Silences Of The Palace (1994)

 

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Moufida Tlatli’s film, a rare success for the North African country, traverses the decade before and after colonial Tunisia.Young Alia (Hend Sabri) is the daughter of a servant in a Bey palace. Unable to receive any formal education, and watching her mother, Khedija (Amel Hedhili), having to submit to servitude and sexual exploitation, the future for Alia looks bleak. However, in this reflective film, there is an aura of optimism for the emancipation for, not just women, but women as emblems of the Tunisian nation.

 

Tsai Ming-Liang, The Wayward Cloud (2005)

 

Image result for wayward cloudCherry picked out from the Taiwanese director’s oeuvre to demonstrate the true eclecticism of foreign pictures, this tale of love in the pornographic age has the capability to shock (possibly rather, surprise) even the most blasé cinema spectator.Set amidst some outré musical numbers and set pieces, often involving watermelons, Tsai Ming-liang’s exercises his common themes of sexual, romantic and familial repression.

 

Fernando Meirelles, City Of God(2002)

 

A good starting point for anyone unfamiliar with non-Hollywood produce, this Brazilian film from Fernando Meirelles harnesses the visual techniques of the music video – in a similar style to Quentin Tarantino or Guy Ritchie – to tell its tale of corruption and violence in the Brazilian slums.When other young men around him are turning to cocaine dealing and gun toting, Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues) has dreams of becoming a photographer to make his escape from poverty and early death.

Female’s Leading Doesn’t Make Up For Feminism Losing

 

So we, the British, such as we are, are to have our second female Prime Minister. As a woman who will, for the sake of brevity, refer to herself as a ‘person of the left’, the second inauguration of a female premier being a Conservative (by all accounts, with a capital C) leaves one, at best, rather ambivalent.

The most coherent form of political feminism has it that, it is not so much the cause of feminism to provide a shinning walk way for a female leader, so much as it is to arrive at a governance that takes issues that affect women seriously, point one. Point two, is that the most sensible way of doing this is to enable a critical mass of women to work in government, that at the very least equals, or slightly surpasses, the presence of men. One could argue, for the sake here of simplicity, that the Nordic countries do so comparatively well for women because they have such decent levels of representation, in the European context in any case. Indeed the Nordic countries have an average of 41% representation, compared with the rest of Europe’s measly average of 24%.

Britain doesn’t do well out of that. It seems to me rather suspect to be throwing garlands up in the air on account of the new leader’s vagina, when overall political power is but sand in women’s hands. Of course, just as those far right men with stubbly shaved heads and beady, forensic eyes (here’s looking at you Paul Nuttall) will become Dworkins when it comes to the malfunctioning of women’s liberty in the hands of their Muslim enemies, so too will conservatives dance on the podium of feminism when its stripped vernacular serves their cause. Here comes Theresa, girls, our work here is done!

But I have nothing, really, against Theresa May, especially when considered next to the rag bag bunch of Tory Etonian toffs that have being whipping the reins of power for the last ten years. Indeed, Andrea Leadsom aside, women conservatives seem to be the Tories best bet, if only because they are overall, slightly less annoying then their tripod counterparts.

Nonetheless, Theresa May’s appointment to power is no great success for feminism, but how much of an affront it will be will rather depend on what she does next to support women. And therein lies the kernel of my ambivalence: probably not a great deal.

If we shoot over to the Labour Party, in all its glistening disarray, it is equally hard to feel enthused by the potential for Angela Eagle to become leader of the opposition. Yes Labour has never had a female leader (other than the interim Harriet Harman) and yes there is a real conversation to be had about why a left wing (well, you know) party has been so inept in this regard . The Conservatives, of course, bought in the euphemistically termed Welfare Reforms which disproportionately affected women and now, despite our conviviality about having two women top dogs, Britain finds itself far down the list of the World Economic Forum’s Gender Gap Index, at number 26, lower than most other European countries despite us being one of the richest. I’ve never been much of a patriot, but what little patriotism I do have is looking more and more like a sweaty ball of old socks.

Those feminist Labour supporters who want to run head first into Angela Eagle’s pink suits and willingness to play the political game, need to remind themselves that she abstained on voting for the aforementioned Welfare Reform Act. I never quite understood why so many Labour MPs did; did they imagine that if they simply voted it down Tories, Middle England and The Daily Mail would creep into their second expense homes at night and apply cling film to their toilet seats, shave their dogs and put several dozen mackerels down the sides of their sofas? Is Labour so fearful of having political clout, decisiveness or initiative? These Blairites tell us they want power, but one gets the distinct impression that if they ever got it, they’d not have a bloody clue what to do with it, so wholesome and distended is their political, existential crisis.

Added to which, Eagle also voted for the Iraq war, Syrian airstrikes and the hike in University fees. Given that the latter happening, more or less obliterated the Liberal Democrats, it seems quite a stretch to imagine that her leadership would galvanize and unify the party in the way that is being proposed.

Look, I don’t have any real ‘loyalty’ to Jeremy Corbyn, but one feels that the perpetuating failure of the Labour Party has little to nothing to do with him, and indeed, will not be solved by her. Labour lost a massive chunk of its historical support when Scotland went for the more politically cohesive and very ably led SNP, and there is more hemorrhaging of support to the far right party, UKIP. The fact is that, those areas that have voted enthusiastically for Brexit in England and Wales, are just more socially conservative than what any side of the Labour movement can speak too, Eagle or Corbyn.

The only glimmer of hope would arrive if they stopped peeing their pants over being showered with denigrating generalities such You Urban Metropolitan Elites! you Rabid Multiculturalists!, you Bull Dyke Feminists and Haters of the Queen!, and actually curated some willing compromises and tried to colonize us namby pamby liberals, socialists and jaded centrists as best possible. Corbyn has tried to reach a compromise, but the compromise on the other side is predicated on him leaving and taking his bloody mandate with him. Which, for those taking a nap at the back, isn’t really a compromise at all.

The simple fact of having female leaders of either the right or the left won’t be enough to bring feminism and socialism back from the brink of their swansongs. Women have received dramatic cuts to their social security,  women’s refuges are closing, and a government panel seems long term hellbent on enacting policies to enable the industrialization of prostitution.

We are in a crisis, one from which no politician alone, male or female, can currently save us, irrespective of the colour of their jackets or the strength of their steel.


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